Everything Will Be Okay
by Katie Lyyn-98
Summary: Katniss' father is dead. She has to find food for her family. Mr. Mellark offers her a job at the bakery, and she accepts, desperate for anything. She and the baker's son become very close friends. Universe Alterations. Rated T because I'm paranoid. Written for frostingpeetaswounds.
1. Chapter 1

Everything Will Be Okay

Chapter 1:

Katniss' POV.

He's dead. He's been dead for three days. It doesn't feel right, waking up and expecting him to be there. I have to remind myself every day that he was killed. The mines killed him.

Mama hasn't spoken since he died. Hasn't even moved. Prim is starving. I'm starving too, but I don't care about myself. Prim doesn't deserve this. If I can't get Mama to do something, I'll have to give her to someone else.

Maybe Greasy Sae will take her in. Papa always said Greasy Sae would take in any and every stray.

But Prim isn't a stray.

I crawl over to where Mama sits, looking out of the window, her face devoid of emotion. "Mama." I shake her gently. "Mama, please. Say something." No response. I sigh. Maybe tomorrow. "Mama, I'm going to go see if I can find something to eat." I wait to see if she responds. She doesn't. I kiss her cheek and grab my shabby jacket. Prim's sleeping, so I hurry out before she wakes up and begs to come with me.

I blink as the bright snow blinds me momentarily. The Seam is crowded with women and their children. Women offering their service and goods for almost any amount of money or food. They're not Papa. They don't know that they can bargain.

I walk aimlessly. I only have two options. Begging or digging through the trash. There's nothing for me in the Seam. No one has enough to feed themselves as it is. They won't be able to spare any. And they don't throw anything out.

So, I have to go to town. It'll get me nowhere, I'm sure. The merchants hate Seam kids. It doesn't matter that my mother was merchant at one time. That just makes it worse. But I have no other choice. It's either starve to death or swallow my pride and beg for food.

I make my way into town. I hesitate before walking up to the shoemaker's door step and knocking. A blond man with a blonde girl about my age in his arms opens the door. He looks dismayed when he sees me.

"What do you want?" He asks gruffly.

I fidget around and stare at my shoes as I drag my toe across the ground. "I was wondering . . ."

"Speak up, girl. I cain't hear ya."

I clear my throat and look up at him. "I was wondering if you could spare something to eat. Anything. Please, sir, I beg you."

He shakes his head. "Sorry, I ain't got much." Before I can say anything else, he shuts his door in my face. I sigh and walk on.

A dozen buildings later – and still nothing to eat – I come to the bakery. I don't bother knocking on the door. They'll just say no. I walk to the back and start filing through the trash. There's not much except for moldy bread. I'm tempted to take it and just scrape the mold off when a hand jerks me away and throws me to the ground.

"Ow . . ." I cry.

"How _dare_ you, you stupid little—" The woman advances towards me, and I recognize her as the baker's wife, Mrs. Mellark. I had almost forgotten Papa had traded with Mr. Mellark after hunting.

"I'm sorry! I'm just hungry."

She jerks my arms and leans closer to my face. "Oh, you're hungry, are you? So you thought you could just come here and steal our food, you little brat?"

"It's in the garbage! You obviously weren't going to eat it." I don't know why I'm talking back to her. I should run. I should get away from her. But I don't.

She slaps me, hard. I fall back against the hard, cold dirt and vaguely note that someone must shovel all of the snow somewhere else. Anger stirs in me. How dare _she hit me_? Who does she think she is?

I sit up and glare at her, staring straight into her eyes. "Does it make you feel better, hitting someone who can't hit back? Your family must love you."

Hatred smolders in her eyes, but I see I hit a nerve. "Get out of here, brat. I better never see you here again, or I'll . . ."

I stand up and walk away. I plop down by a tree and watch her as she walks back into the bakery. And then I cry.

I cry for Prim. For myself. For Mama. For Papa. Papa's dead, and now we will be too. Maybe starving won't be too painful. Maybe it'll be okay. Maybe it won't hurt too badly.

Or maybe I could make Prim drink too much of Mama's medicines. It'd be a fast and painless death for her. I don't want her to suffer. She's suffered enough.

If only I could make it to twelve. Then I could take tesserae. It'd be something.

"Um . . . hi."

I'm startled from my thoughts and I look up to see Peeta Mellark standing over me, shuffling his feet and staring down at the ground. I blink in confusion and then realize he's probably here to throw me out of town. Who knows what his mother sent him to do.

"Okay," I sigh, "I'm leaving. You don't have to yell at me."

He shakes his head. "No, no!" I raise an eyebrow and shrug.

"Then why did you come out here, then? For a nice little chit-chat?"

He bites his lip and stares up at the sky. "Uh, no. Actually, I wanted to invite you into the bakery."

I stare at him blankly. "Excuse me?"

He nods furiously.

I fold my arms and glare. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"No! It isn't. My dad wants you to come inside and get warmed up. He says you look cold."

I raise my chin. "I'm not cold."

He looks almost pleading now. "Could you please just come in? My dad wants to apologize for my mom. She's . . . well, she's not the nicest person."

"Oh, believe me," I scoff, "I know."

"I'm sorry she slapped you," And he does appear to be awfully contrite.

I shrug. "It's not your fault."

He nods. "Yeah, but still. Can we please make it up to you?"

I'm starting to cave in. "But . . . what about your mom?"

"She left. Went out the back door and down the street to stay with her sister. She said . . . well, I won't repeat what she said."

I give in. "Okay, but only for a minute."

The delight on his face is worth it, anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Oh, wow. The response to the first chapter was AH-MA-ZING. Thank you for all the favorites and follows and kind words. Camp NaNo is coming up, so I may not have as much time to update as quickly as I have right now, but I will do my very best. Y'all are the best! Thank you! ~ K.L._**

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Chapter 2:

Katniss' POV

"Hello, Katniss." Mr. Mellark says with a warm smile.

"How do you know my name?"

He laughs. It's bright and cheery, which surprises me, since he's been married to a woman who probably never laughed in her life for a long time. "Well, your father used to trade with me. Before . . ."

I nod sadly. I know what he means. "Yeah, I forgot."

He hands me a cookie, one with little bits of chocolate. "You're young. You're allowed to forget things.

I want to protest, but something stops me. He seems too nice to argue with. So I shrug. "I guess. Thanks."

"You're welcome." He beams at me before turning to Peeta. "Son, why don't you get some of that fancy chocolate from the Capitol and make some hot chocolate for you and Katniss?"

Peeta frowns. "But, won't Mom be mad?"

Mr. Mellark sighs. "Your mother won't be coming back anytime soon, Peeta. Go ahead and make some." He turns to me, seeming to sense my discomfort. "I'm sorry about her. She's been stressed lately."

I shrug. "It's okay. And you don't have to waste chocolate on me."

"It's not a waste, not at all. You must be cold, and it'll help warm you up." He gives me a warm smile, and I give in.

"Okay," I sigh, "but only a little. I have to get back to my sister."

He nods. "I wanted to say that . . . well, I'm sorry. About your father's death."

I pull myself up, and straighten my chin, trying to look bigger than I am. "Thank you," I mutter stiffly.

He nods again, distracted. "I . . . well, I know that it's winter time. And it's hard to come by food in the winter time, especially in the Seam . . ."

"We do just fine." I say with a cold edge. Everdeens do not take kindly to people talking about the Seam.

"Oh, I'm sure you do the best you can. But, the point is, you're a little girl. Still a child. No offense, but you'll have trouble finding anything to eat, and I'd rather you and your family not starve."

I'm too tired to deny any of this. So I slouch and fight back tears. "But what can I do?" My voice cracks, much to my chagrin.

Peeta returns with the hot chocolate, and sets a mug in front of me. I stare at it warily, not sure if I should accept or not. "Drink it," Peeta says with a smile, "It's good."

I oblige. It scalds my tongue a bit, but otherwise it tastes good. I wish I could bring Prim some.

Mr. Mellark starts talking again. "I was thinking that perhaps you could come here? To work?"

My eyes widen and I try to understand what he means. "You mean . . . but I'm too young to work. It's not legal."

He laughs. His laugh is a lot like Papa's was, which makes me sad. "Nothing in this entire district is legal, so don't you worry about that."

"I can't bake."

"You don't have to. You can sweep the floors, clean the cabinets and ovens, make deliveries, and so on. We'll teach you how to bake, if you want. But if you don't, there's plenty more that you can do. I'll pay you a fair amount, and give you a bit of bread and sweets for your help each week. Whatever you like."

I go over it in my head. It's fair enough. Better than begging or starving. Prim could survive. She wouldn't have to live with Greasy Sae. We can survive. I straighten my shoulders and nod firmly. "Seems fair. I accept your offer." I hold out my hand to shake, like I had seen Papa do with his trades. Mr. Mellark takes my hand in his and gives it a steady shake, laughing.

"You'll work the same hours as Peeta. Well, maybe a little less, so you can get home on time."

I nod, willing to work overtime if it means my family gets to live on. And then I remember one problem. "What about . . . what about your wife?"

The light in Mr. Mellark's eyes dims a bit. "Well, darling, she won't be coming back here. Not for a while, if at all. If she does, she'll treat you with proper respect."

"Yeah, I bet you're more enjoyable to have around than she is," Peeta adds.

I whirl around to him, feeling as if I've been insulted in some way, when his dad lays a hand on his shoulder. "Son, she's still your mother. Even if . . . even if she wasn't very kind, you should still try to respect her."

Peeta's shoulders sag, and I observe him. He seems so sad. Too sad. It makes my heart break a little, and that surprises me. I didn't know I had any heart left to break. "I know, Dad. I'm trying. But it's not easy." He turns to me with a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I hope you didn't think I meant anything mean when I said you were more enjoyable. It was a compliment. Honest."

And I realize it was. Because I do not think that Peeta Mellark could ever tell a lie.

kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpk

I get back home, Peeta escorting me (Mr. Mellark _insisted _that he show me home), just before sunset. I wave Peeta off and get inside, noting that we need to chop more wood for the fireplace. I start a fire with what little wood we have left, and go off to see if Mama has improved.

She's still sitting by the window, her eyes hollow and lifeless. I sit beside her and stroke her hair. "Mama, I got a job today. We're going to be okay."

Prim bursts into the room, her face full of delight. "Katniss!" She hugs me around the waist and grins. "You should have woke me up before you left! I wanted to come with you!"

I touch her nose tenderly. "You needed to sleep, Primmy. I'm sorry I left you alone all day. Did you eat?"

She nods solemnly. "Yeah, I ate some crackers and a little bit of cheese. I wanted to save you some."

I feel guilty now. "You didn't have to do that, Prim. I'm fine. In fact," I grab her hands and pull them to my chest, a grin taking over my own face, "I got a job today."

Prim bounces up and down. "A job? Really?" She pauses, her face worried. "Not at the mines."

"No, silly. I'm too young to work at the mines. At the bakery!"

She screams in delight. "The bakery? Yay! The baker is so nice. I've met him twice."

I grin. "We're going to be okay, Prim. We're going to be okay." I pull her in for a hug. "Everything will be okay."


	3. Chapter 3

**_I love writing this story. I cannot get enough of it. My babies are so young . . . Anyway, thanks for the support! Keep the reviews/follows/favorites coming! They make me write quicker. As always, you can find me on Tumblr as Everlark-Starcrossed-Lovers, if you want to yell at me or compliment me or something._**

**_Also, I'm sorry in advance for any mistakes I make on this chapter. I always slip from first person to third person when I try to write in first. I think I've corrected it all, but in case I missed something, I'm sorry. And for Peeta switching between "Father" and "Dad" when talking about Mr. Mellark. I'm really trying to keep it straight, but it's harder than it seems. Thank you for your consideration. ~ K.L._**

* * *

Chapter 3:

Peeta's POV

After I walk Katniss back to the Seam – with quite a few eyes following me, I have to admit – I return home to the bakery, just a bit before dark. My brothers, Rye and Leven, are there, leaning on the counters, whispering suspiciously. I ignore their smug smiles as I take off my jacket and fold it neatly, like Mother expected it.

_Mother._

I can't say I'm sad to see her go. I'm relieved, actually. I know it won't last long, no matter what Father says. But, however long she's gone will be a good time.

I rub the bruise on my shoulder and shudder. I hope she never comes back. I find myself hoping that she'll catch some illness or slip on ice and hit her head or something – anything – that will make her stay away.

I'm a horrible person because of that.

And, yet, I don't care.

I decide to focus on the excitement I feel over Katniss coming to work at the bakery for the winter. Maybe she'll let us be friends. Delly's the only real friend I've ever had, and Katniss would be a good friend, I'm sure.

"Hey, Peeta Bread." Rye thumps me on my bruised shoulder and I try to hold back a wince.

"That's not even funny, Rye," Leven announces. "You're named after bread, too."

Rye shrugs. "Well, Rye could be other things too! Not like _Peeta _and _Leven_." He laughs as if it's the funniest thing he ever said.

Sad thing about it is that it probably _is_ the funniest thing he ever said. Rye had never been overburdened with the gift to tell great jokes. Or even jokes that made sense.

"Shut up, Rye." I push past him and went over to the glass counter where the cookies had to be taken out and dumped. I reach inside and bring out a sugar cookie, taking a bite before Rye can respond.

Rye grabs two and hands one to Leven. "I'm just saying," He replies with his mouth full of cookie. "So, you think she's gone for good this time?"

Leven shakes his head. "Nah, she'll be back. She always comes back. Give it a week or so, and she'll be back here, pleading Father to let her back in. And he will."

"And then we'll go through our nightmare once more." Rye rolls his eyes. "So, Peeta, what do you think?"

I pause and think a moment before responding. "She'll be back. As soon as she hears Katniss is working at the bakery, she'll come back and pitch a fit."

Rye nods thoughtfully. "Okay, so what're our bets? I bet you my chores for a week that she'll be back by next week."

"I'm betting two weeks."

"I bet she'll be back in less than five days," I say.

"Alright, Gentlemen, let's shake on it." And so we do.

Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp

Today is the first day of work for Katniss. It's a Monday, and school just let out. So I find her in the sea of people and tell her that we'll walk together. She looks annoyed, and I'm afraid that I sounded too bossy.

"I-if you don't want to, you don't have to walk with me. I just thought that since we're going the same way, it'd make sense if we walked together. I understand if you don't want to, though. I mean—"

"Peeta," she sighs, exasperated, "I'm fine with walking with you. I was just surprised that you wanted to be seen with someone from the Seam."

My forehead furrows. "Why would I care where you're from?"

"Most people dislike people from the Seam. I don't see why you'd be any different."

_Maybe because I've had a crush on you for six years; I don't know, but that may have something to do with it. _"I guess my dad taught me that people are people. And you shouldn't treat any of them differently than you want to be treated."

She smiles a little. "Your dad is a nice guy."

"Yeah, he is."

We walk in peaceful silence for the rest of the walk to the bakery.

Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp

Father is smiling and relaxed when we reach the bakery. I put on an apron and go over to the bread counter, preparing to make the cheese bun dough like I do every day. I look over at Katniss, but she doesn't seem comfortable when she shifts her stance and looks around the kitchen nervously.

"Katniss, you can grab that broom and sweep the front. We're at a lag right now, so no one should bother you." Father smiles at her, apparently trying to set her at ease.

She smiles gratefully. "Okay." And so she dashes off in search of the broom.

We three work in silence, aside from the occasional instruction from Father or a soft hum from Katniss. It's a contented kind of silence, one that I enjoy working in. People come in and out. Most ignore Katniss, some are curious and stare at her, and others walk up to her boldly and ask her why she's here. Katniss always replies quietly, stating that she was hired to work here at the bakery. A few people have come up to my father to tell him that he's either crazy or blind for hiring her.

"Mellark, you must've gone stupid. Have you _looked _at that thing?" The general store owner asks bluntly when he comes into the shop.

"Her name is Katniss. Show a little respect, Mason." My father replies.

"She's from the Seam! She'll rob ya blind!"

"That's a cruel stereotype, and Katniss is a nice girl. She's very grateful for work and will not betray my trust anytime soon, I'm sure."

The general store owner points his index finger at my father and shakes his head. "You mark my words, you will regret this. You're too trusting of those Seam brats."

Father crosses his arms. "And you're a close-minded gossip who would rather judge someone from where they live than get to know them. Which is worse?"

The man shakes a fist. "You'll see, Mellark. You'll see." And with that, he storms out of the bakery.

Katniss bites her lip and hangs her head as she approaches me. "Maybe I should leave," she whispers.

I shake my head. "No, you shouldn't. That guy, he's just a grumpy old man who's bitter over his wife leaving him because he was such a grump. So now he goes around, trying to make everyone feel bad about themselves. Don't worry about him."

She smiles again. "Thanks. I'll try to remember that." And so we continue working, until closing hours, Rye and Leven joining us later on in the evening, and then I walk Katniss home.

And thus is how our routine is born.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Sorry for the long wait. I've been really busy. And while I was writing this chapter, I somehow lost all of it, even though I saved it. And it didn't go into previous versions, so I had to write this one all over. Made me want to cry. It's probably not as good as the original chapter that I was going to upload, but it'll have to be enough. Enjoy this chapter! ~ K.L._ **

Chapter 4:  
Katniss' POV

Another week passes and I'm slowly getting the hang of working in a bakery. Rye and Leven have almost adopted me, it seems. They fuss over me and teach me the right way to flip a doughnut in hot grease (apparently, there're a lot of ways to do it, but only one right way). They insist that one of them should always be near my side, should any less-than-standard males try to mess with me.

Even though I can take care of myself, it's a sweet gesture. I've grown to like them like my own brothers. And, in a way, maybe they are.

Today, Mr. Mellark had to go out to get supplies from the train. It only comes once a month, and we're running low on flour and butter. Rye and Leven are out practicing their wrestling at the school. So it's just Peeta and I here. Peeta refuses my help with the baking. He claims there isn't much to bake, and I should watch the storefront. Not wanting to argue about it, I agree.

I'm sweeping the floors, for the fifth time in an hour due to boredom, when she walks in. She doesn't notice me. I don't see how, since I'm standing in the middle of the room. But I know she'd pitch a fit if she had noticed me.

Peeta comes back out front. "Hey, Ka—" He stops short when he notices Mrs. Mellark angrily searching the room. I meet his gaze and shake my head. I really don't want her knowing I'm here. It's safe to say she kind of scares me.

"There you are, you lazy boy," she snaps, "Where is your coward of a father? He needs to stop hiding and face me like a man."

Peeta seems to shrivel beneath her gaze. "I don't know, ma'am."

She scoffs, and my temper starts to rise. "Of course you don't. You don't know anything except how to make trouble, is that right? Of course it's right. That's all you've ever been to me. Trouble. You and your father both. Who knows why I married the lousy excuse for a man?"

Scared of her or not, I will not let her talk that way about the kind man who saved my family's life. I throw my broom to the floor, letting the last clatter of the fallen broom fade away before I raise my voice. "How dare you?"

She whirls around with a start and growls when she sees me. The growling reminds me of a rabid dog my father shot once. I remember the way he approached the dog, staying far enough that he could jump back should it lunge, but close enough to nearly touch its nose. He was calm and firm, being gentle enough to lure the unsuspecting dog to its death. It was what had to be done. And now I decide to approach Mrs. Mellark in a similar way.

"Why did you let this half-breed in the bakery, you ignorant little fool?" She screams the question at Peeta, as if I were infected with a deadly disease that could kill off the entire district.

"S-she works—" Peeta stutters, trying to get the words out of his mouth, even though it's apparent that he's terrified of her.

Never show fear around a rabid dog.

"I work here." I announce to her firmly. There is no question in my voice. There is no tremble. I am firm and calm. She cannot shake me from the foundation I've established to conquer her. Nothing can.

Mrs. Mellark laughs a cold, hard laugh. There's no mirth in it. It seems as if it'd be more related to nails scraping a chalkboard than laughing. "No you aren't, you little brat."

I raise a single eyebrow. "Says who? You?" Now it's my turn to laugh. "And where have you been the past two weeks? Not here." I hold up my hands and gesture around the bakery.

"It's true, Mother," Peeta speaks up, "Father hired her."

She whirls around to face him. "What?" She looks as if she might hit him. I won't let that happen, or she'll be bloodied and bruised before he even has a finger laid on him. Brooms can hurt very, very badly.

"He says it's the truth. Are you deaf?" She turns back around to me.

This goes on for thirty minutes. Peeta and I toss comments back and forth at her, and she'll turn to face the speaker. It's surprising that she hasn't collapsed from dizziness, but it's keeping her busy, so I'll take what I can get.

After what seems like forever, Mr. Mellark comes back. "Brrr, it's cold outside. I'm glad to be back with the heat and—" He stops when he sees his (possibly ex) wife, much like Peeta did. I find the parallel almost amusing, if it weren't absolutely heartbreaking to see a father and son stopped short in fear over their wife/mother.

Mrs. Mellark is seething in fury, her eyes flashing and teeth showing. Exactly like a dog. "It's about time you got back, James. We have a problem."

Mr. Mellark raises his eyebrows as if he were truly interested in hearing these problems, but I could sense an underlying anger that was barely contained. "Oh?" was all he said.

"You hired Seam trash to work here." It's not a question. It's almost a challenge.

He folds his arms across his chest, glancing at me somewhat apologetically. "She has a name, and she is not trash. Yes, I hired her."

"We don't need any more help! The whole reason we had kids was so they would help run the bakery. We don't need anyone else."

He clears his throat. "I'm sorry, but why do you keep using the word 'we?' This is my bakery. I hired her. You have no say in it. In fact, I was just at the Justice Building. We'll no longer be married in a few months. You just need to sign a few papers and you can be free of us, like you always wanted."

She's shocked. It's written all over her face. I glance at Peeta, and notice he seems shocked too.

Mr. Mellark continues. "You know what, let's take this to the back office. No need to involve the children any more than they have to be. Peeta, I trust you can watch the storefront for a few more minutes? It doesn't look like we'll be getting any more business today, though. Not with all of this snow."

Peeta nods. "Yes, sir." And with that, Mr. and Mrs. Mellark disappear into the back. There's the sound of a door shutting, and then muffled shouting. The sound of shattering glass. More shouting.

Peeta and I sit quietly behind the counter on barstools. I hug my knees to my chest, tired from the events of today. "Was she . . . always like this?" I ask quietly. "I mean, you don't have to answer. I'm just wondering."

Peeta shrugs. "I guess not. I don't know, really. She's been like this as long as I can remember. I kind of just figured Father would put up with it until they died."

I nod. "I'm sorry. About how she is. And that I made it worse."

He shakes his head. "You didn't make it worse. That's just how she is. Even if you hadn't been here, she would have found something to complain about."

I sigh. "What time is it?" "Uh, three-forty-one, I think."

I glance at him. "Think we could close up early?"

He shrugs. "Might as well. It's not as if we have customers beating down the doors."

I laugh at that. "Truth." We close up the bakery, and then Peeta walks me home.

* * *

_NOTE: I promised one or two readers that I'd write a scene where they walk home together. But I'll try to do it the next chapter. If I did it in this one, it would be waaaay too long and I can't think of a single thing they'd talk about right now. *shrug* Sorry! But I promise, I WILL get a chapter of them walking/talking done. Thanks for reading! Thanks for all the follows, favorites, and reviews. Please review again so I'll smile and write faster. ~ K.L._


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